Obituaries
by keeponwritin
Summary: Gordo comes back to his hometown only to find that his two best childhood friends are dead. Will he be able to face reality and move on, or will he be haunted by this forever? Chapter 11: Imagine. On hiatus.
1. A Perfect Life

Gordo tried to stop smiling, but he couldn't. Life was perfect. No, beyond perfect.

As he drove down the streets of his old hometown of Hillridge, all the memories flowed back into his mind. The summers they spent riding on their bikes and going to the playground. Remembrances of all the childish activities overpowered his mind. For a second, he no longer wanted to be a working adult. He'd almost rather stay at home on a Saturday morning watching cartoons, rather than be stuck in a cramped cubicle. But he laughed aloud at the frivolous dreams. _No stuffy cubicle for me._ He'd finally made it: he was a director. Well, not exactly. He was only 18, and not even a high school graduate. But he was on his way.

He wasn't sure what had told him to go back to Hillridge. It was almost as if he had seen it in a dream. A friend from the agency had actually prompted him to visit a tarot card reader. He had told him there were good things to come, and that life would soon be more enjoyable to him.

He was usually skeptical when it came to psychics. He thought they were a bunch of phonies, to be honest. But that night, he had a bizarre dream. He envisioned himself floating, on a cloud. In the distance, he saw two strange figures. At first, he hadn't a clue what they were. But then they spoke to him. "Come home, David. Come home." Even in his dream, they sounded the same. Lizzie and Miranda were speaking to him. It was a sort ofprophesy. The tarot cards, the dream. After a while, he was even telling himself to go home.

And now here he was, back at his old home. It had only been 2 years, but time away from home seemed like forever. He grinned at the accuracy of his predictions: the grass looked like it hadn't been mowed in 2 years, and his mom still hadn't done anything new with the garden.

He wondered what his reunion would be like. Would they laugh whimsically like old times, or share heart-felt 'I missed you''s with one another? Either way, he couldn't wait.

He walked gloriously up to his front door, and with his head up high, knocked on the large wooden door.

"Go away," an unfamiliar voice said to him.

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[A/N: If you've read my summary, then you probably won't care about this chapter. I know I promised myself I wouldn't start a new story until I was done my first one, but my first one is turning into a comedy, and I wanted to write something serious. In fact, I meant from my first one to be serious. But I will enjoy writing story very much. Tell me what you think so far.]


	2. Revelations

Gordo, squinting in confusion, whispered under his breath, "Who thedid they move and not tell me? Why wouldn't they tell me?" He was almost angry at them before

"Mr. and Mrs. Gordon would not like anymore visitors at this time." _What a relief. But whose voice is that? And whywhy would they be having visitors anyway? Could they have.no. No way. That's insane. _

The strange man looked at him through the peephole. "Sir, please leave," he announced through the door. 

"This is umthis is Gord---I mean, David Gordon. I'm theirtheir son." He still couldn't figure it out. _Visitors?_

Opening the door, the anonymous man apologized. "I am terribly sorry, sir. Please, let me take your bags for you." Gordo didn't a good look at his face, but he looked grim. _What is this, did my parents hire a butler?!_

"Dr. Andrews, I thought I told you no" his mother's voice grew louder as the sentence went on. When she reached the foyer and saw her only son, she went into a mild shock. "David!" she squeaked. Gordo noticed her puffy, red eyes, but figured it was just allergies. She walked quickly towards him, and embraced him as if she hadn't seen him in 30 years, although it had actually only been 2. While hugging his mother, his father appeared from the kitchen. He gave Gordo an acknowledging smile, but quickly returned to the grim look, much like that of the doctor.

While he had missed parents and his home, there was still a yearning inside of him to visit his friends. He was the reason why he had come home in the first place. But he knew it would kill his mother to tell her that. He loved his parents both very much, but he hated how they were always constantly psychologically evaluating his every move. He often wondered where he came from. His parents looked into things too deeply. Sure, he was overanalytical himself sometimes, but they look for the psychological influence and effects, and all things scientific. He believed in fate, and destiny. He didn't understand it, but he knew that it existed. Before he developed a mind of his own, he was brainwashed by his parents into thinking that everything in life happened for a scientific reason. They weren't against religion, but they didn't believe most of it. 

His mother's soft voice broke into his thoughts. 

"David?"

He snapped back into reality. He was at his kitchen table, with his mom and his dad. 

"David, is something troubling you?"

"No, Mom, I'm fine, thanks." _I wonder how many times I've said that in my lifetime._

His father, at last, spoke. "Are you sure? Nothing on your mind that you'd like to discuss with us?" _I can't believe they're still using the same routine after nearly 10 years._

"No, Dad, I'm fine." He picked up his fork and twirled his spaghetti slowly. When he realized his parents were still staring at him and looking worried, he quickened the pace, and tried to make himself look happier. When he smiled, he remembered: Lizzie and Miranda. He needed to talk to them. Although he wasn't usually that much of a talker, he'd want to tell him about his dream, and all the things he had done that he hadn't got to tell them about in his letters. He couldn't believe it, but he longed to see their beautiful faces. He hadn't seen someone smile, and mean it, in a long, long time. It was unbelievable how they could brighten up his day like no one else. _How did I live without them for two years?_

After he finished his dinner and washed off his plate, he grabbed his jacket, kissed his Mom on the cheek, and said, "I'm going to Lizzie's, Mom. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Oh, son, don't you think you should go up to your room and rest? It's rather late, and you've been driving for hours, and your bed is all fresh and waiting to be slept in." There was a sense of urgency in his mother's voice, but Gordo figured it was just her motherly instinct, wanting to protect him. And his old bed, the one thing he could almost say he missed as much as his friends, all clean and comfortable, was tempting..

He grinned "Alright, just let me get one thing out of my car."

The brisk evening breeze beyond his front door chilled him to the bone. He knew he should be annoyed, but he hadn't felt air so cold in years. He loved everything about Hillridge: the year-round smell of freshly cut grass, the golden sunrise that shimmered down the glittery streets, even the sound of children screaming playfully at the playground made him crack a smile. _I can't believe myself. I sound like one of those insanely deep people who go around telling people to slow down their lives. Life is a fast-paced thing. If you take it slowly, you'll get pushed around. That's my mentality._

After he locked his car once more, he saw the newspaper lying on the driveway. _I guess I'll check up on current events the old-fashioned way. _

Gordo went inside and made himself a cup of coffee. He read the headlines to himself: _"Junior High's Rhythmic Gymnastics Team Makes State Championship."_ He laughed aloud. _If only Lizzie were 4 years younger._ He continued to read the paper and drink his sugary coffee as he walked upstairs.

His bedroom wasn't nearly as enticing as his mother had made it seem. But he was tired; he'd sleep anywhere right now. He lied down in his bed, which was almost too small for him. 

As soon as he finished the article about the new high school principal, he turned the page. _Obituaries. Poor old guys._ He wasn't trying to be disrespectful. It was just that, well, they were going to die sooner or later.

He scanned down the lists, hoping to see one of his old teachers someone in there. He reached "M" and nearly dropped his cup.

"_McGuire, Elizabeth Brooke b. 1988. Alum of Hillridge High School Killed last night by a drunk driver at aprox. 12:00 AM at the corner of Henry Ave. and School House Lane. She went to the Hillridge School for 15 years, from nursery school to 12th grade. The driver of the car she was in was best friend Miranda Sanchez (see below), who was also announced dead"_

He flipped down the page.

__

"Sanchez, Miranda Isabella b. 1988, Alum of Hillridge High School. Announced dead at the scene of the accident between Sanchez's Toyota Corrola and Hillridge resident Eddie Davis's Ford pick-up truck. Davis was drunk at the time of the crash. Sanchez was an aspiring singer who was planning on going to Duke for college next year. Sanchez was 18 years old."

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[A/N: For the record, I spent about 3 hours on this chapter.]


	3. The Dream

Gordo's brain shut down. All memories of past personal worries or concernsvanished. It made it difficult to even understand how anyone could ever care about things so frivolous, as he had. He knew that he could die at the minute, and no one would be able to tell the difference. It was as if the blood in his veins came to a chilling stop. His whole body became painfully numb. He couldn't stand up. He couldn't turn the page. Even his eyes were transfixed on jumbled words and phrases. "_Miranda18._" The pain flooded down to his eyelids. He forced a blink, and a solitary teardrop rolled down his left cheek.

~~~~~~

Gordo awoke the next morning, groggy and disheveled. _Just a horrible dream, _he thought. 

He laid in his bed with his eyes half open for a few minutes, until his mother knocked gently on his bedroom door.

"Come in," he groaned, and rolled the other way to face his mother.

"Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you get a good night's rest?" She spoke softly, like she was talking to a fragile child. A child that looked as though it would shatter into a thousand pieces at any second.

"Not really, but I know you're going to make me wake up anyway. Don't worry, I'll be up in a few minutes." She smiled at his maturity, and was about to close the door, when Gordo spoke up again. 

"Hey Mom?"

"Yes?"  


"You know, I had this really strange dream last night. I was read---" Just then, the doorbell rang.

"I'm sorry, honey, but can we talk about this later?" Gordo was eager to tell about his dream. His nightmare, to be exact. But he nodded. _Late is better than never._

"We're going to IHOP, so dress appropriately." She said with a smile.

He faintly smiled back.

~~~~~

Gordo finished placing his order. The waitress walked away, and Mr. Gordon spoke up first.

"So, David, did youmake any friends while you were away?" Gordo called his parents occasionally while he was away, to update them on work, but the subject of his personal life never really popped up.

__

Friends. MirandaLizzie. A sharp, sudden bolt of pain developed in the pit of his stomach. His grin quickly faded away. _It was just a dream, though, right? Why am I so worried about all of this? They're sitting at home, waiting for me to talk to them. They probably think I'm ignoring them. I should call them, after breakfast. We could get together, and things'll be great, like they used to be._

Gordo was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he had ignored the question.

"David? Are you feeling okay?" His father sounded concerned.

"Oh. Yeah. I'm fine." He wasn't really fine, but he wasn't ready to admit that to his parents yet. "Mom, you know that dream that I was going to tell you about earlier?"

"Yes?" his mother questioned, in the same concerned voice his father had just used

"Well, see, I was reading these obit---" At that moment, Mr. Gordon's cell phone rang. He reached deep into his pocket and answered it.

"Hello?.okay, I'll be right there."

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[A/N: Sorry it took so long to update, and sorry this chapter is so short. You know what? I don't have any notes. So please, just review. Thanks.]


	4. Tower of Anger

All kinds of terrible thoughts ran across Gordo's mind. _No, no. It's one of his patients. It has to be. Pleaselet it be._

As soon as he was about to open his mouth to ask, the car pulled up to the McGuire household. There was a police car and an ambulance parked out front. Just like the night before, he was speechless.

A solitary stretcher, carried by two unfamiliar men, emerged from the front door, followed by Mrs. McGuire, sobbing on her husband's shoulder.

Gordo's parents swerved the SUV into the driveway, and jumped out. He was about to reach for the door handle, when his father spoke up.

"David, stay here. We'll be right back." 

"But dad" The closing of the doors cut off his argument.

There was no doubt in his mind that was angry. It built up like a tower inside him. This was his friend's house, his friend's parents, his love. _Wait, love? _He smiled.. _Yeah. Love. I loved my friends. No. Present tense. I love my friends. _But as he stared out the window, the torment knocked down the tower. The stretcher was being loaded into the back of the ambulance. Mr. and Mrs. McGuire, along with the men, jumped in. The doors were slammed closed. After less than ten seconds, the ambulance was zooming away, sirens blaring. Gordo was so transfixed on this scene that he hadn't noticed that his parents were running towards the car. They both jumped in, his dad in the driver's seat and his mom in the passenger's seat, and started the engine.

No words were spoken between the time the car pulled out of the driveway, and the time they reached the hospital. All three were deep in thought, but Gordo was the one who was the one who had it the worst. His thoughts were a scrambled mess. They mostly consisted of one-word questions. _Who? How? Why?_

~~~~~~~

They sat in the waiting room. _Waiting room,_ he thought. _What are we waiting for? _His parents were sitting next to each other, whispering so no one else in the room could hear. The normal hustle and bustle of a hospital was going on all around him, and for once, he couldn't understand it. _How can you be surrounded by dying people, and have people die right in front of your eyes, and go on your normal day?_

Mrs. McGuire stepped out of the room, her eyes, red and swollen. Mr. McGuire followed, staring down at the ground as he walked. Mr. and Mrs. Gordon rushed over to them. In a tone of voice inaudible to Gordo, Mr. McGuire delivered the news to his parents. Mrs. Gordon had contained her composure up to this point, but she couldn't stand it anymore. She broke down, head in hands, right there in the hallway. Her husband comforted her, but even he had tears in his eyes. After a few minutes of talking and comforting each other, the McGuires returned to the room, and the his parents returned to their seats, and resumed their quiet talk.

Gordo felt the same anger he felt as he stared out the car window earlier. 

"Momwhat happened?" He asked, innocently.

"We'll tell you, later, David," his mother said. They might as well have ignored him. Gordo blew up.

"Damnit, you guys never tell me anything! I'm 18 years old! You don't have to hide things from me like I'm a child! Those are my friend's parents in there! I deserve to know what happened!" He was causing a scene, but he couldn't have cared less.

"Please, calm down, and we'll tell you," his mother stated. He sat down and controlled his breathing. When his breaths became steady once again, his father told him.

"DavidMatt tried to commit suicide."

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[A/N: Please review. Thanks.]


	5. But They Don't

Matt McGuire. Although churlish and uncaring at first impression, he was the always-approachable kid.

He was popular in junior high. But not snobby popular, like all the other phonies. Sure, sometimes it seemed like he'd never grow up, but essentially, that's what was so great about him. He never did lose his sense of humor, and even though he had matured, he was still crazy little Matt. When everyone else was feeling blue, he'd come back with a witty comment to bring a little laughter back into our lives. It was like he was drunk off life. As much as everyone hated to admit it, he brought a ray of hope to everyone he met.

But now, here he was, bleeding on his hospital bed. Matt McGuire. Suicidal.

It hadn't occurred to Gordo_Why?_ Why would Matt do this to himself? You'd always see news articles about these "model citizens" who commit suicide, On the outside, they look fine. They're as perfect as can be. But inside, they're dying. Depression eats away at all the hope they have. Could Matt be one of those people?

__

Why? It was comforting to think that he knew Matt, but the reality was he barely knew him. It was a rarity to see the two having a serious, one-on-one discussion. Sometimes when he was a little younger, Matt would ask Gordo for advice. About friends, family, and not to mention, girls.

But this was all from memory. Perhaps, in the two years Gordo was away, Matt had changed. But it didn't seem possible. To be perfectly cheerful one day, and wanting to die the next?

~~~~~~

Gordo's parents had left him in the waiting room to think. As psychologists, they knew what he was going through.

__

But they don't, Gordo thought. They were ignorant parents. You would think that people so intelligent would realize what they had been doing wrong, but they never did. 

Gordo remembered being in elementary school, and learning how you should deal with a death in the family. The other children said they would cry, and let it all out. And pray. But that was never the case in the Gordon household. Things were fact, plain solid fact. No, Grandma Gordon didn't move on. She didn't pass away. She died. She went into cardiac arrest, and died. Was it possible that it was her time? Perhaps she was meant to die then? No, she died. All science, nothing else.

Yes, they were still sad, but whenever they'd talk about in front of him, it would all seem sofake. There was no truth behind the façade of anguish. He hated him, and there was little else to be said about the matter.

Suddenly, he heard his mother's soothing voice.

"David, we have something we'd like you to know." 

Gordo turned to face the other direction, and clenched his fists in anger.

"I don't want to hear it," he said harshly. He hated to be so rude to his well-meaning mother, butwait, was this not the woman who had brought him so much hurt in his life? She wasn't worthy of his geniality.

"Don't speak that way to your mother," his father scolded. "I think it would be to your benefit to listen to us."

Gordo turned around. _They always say it would be to my benefit, but it's always something I could care less about._

"Get rid of that expression on your face, and listen," his father said. Gordo rolled his eyes.

"David, please, this is very hard for us," his mother said, her eyes big and doey. 

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," he said, rolling his eyes once again. Ignoring his last comment, Mrs. Gordon continued.

"We weren't sure if you had already heard or not, but" she said, pulling out a newspaper and slowly flipping through the pages. She stopped at a page, folded the paper over, and handed it to him

He skimmed through the names, again, as if déjà vu, saw their names. _McGuire, Elizabeth Brooke. Sanchez, Miranda Isabella._

Gordo choked back his tears.

"It's real."

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[A/N: I'm really sorry about the lack of updates in all my stories. I just finished with drama club, our performances were Thursday afternoon and last night, and it's just been so fun and exciting that I've been neglecting my stories and pretty much all of FF.net. Points to me for using a vocab word: anguish. Please review. I really want to know what you think of it, honestly. Because I think it's lame and overdone and everything. I just need to know if you agree with me. Thanks.

Oh, next story to be updated is The Great Hillridge Junior High Reunion. I might get it done tonight, if you're lucky.]


	6. Aftershock

Gordo sat on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. He hugged his knees to his chest, and rocked himself, back and forth, back and forth, forcing himself to recall the days of his infancy. He would lie in his crib, his large blue eyes blinking sleepily. His mother would walk into the room and peek over the side. When she saw he wasn't asleep yet, she would lift him up into her arms, whispering a sweet lullaby, as she rocked him gently, back and forth, back and forth...  
  
But who knows if this really happened? Perhaps it was just a soothing tale his mother would tell him when he was younger, to settle his nerves. Even if it was true, these memories of childhood innocence only came to belittle him in his time of sorrow. Sorrow, anger, confusion...all twisted into one knot, strangling his mind from thinking rational thoughts. Temptation toyed with his head, beckoning him to run. To run away, and to never come home. To even change his identity, to change his way of life, to leave it all behind. Did he have it in him to desert his own family, and the families of his friends for his own selfish reasons? To abolish everything he'd ever known in his life, and start anew?  
  
Amidst his own thoughts, he failed to realize that someone else had entered the bathroom. A voice, unrecognizable at first, but obviously not an adult.  
  
Gordo? Gordo, are you in here? The voice called.   
  
He wasn't sure what to do. Respond? Ignore it? His heartbeat raced. He couldn't bear to have anyone see him like this, so weak, and vulnerable. Especially one of his own peers. Especially when he didn't even know who the person was.   
  
But he couldn't hide out here all day. Or could he? _No, no, stop it, Gordo. You don't know what you're saying._  
  
Gordo said, his voice, raspy, and his throat, hurting with every word that he spoke.  
  
Gordo, is that you? Where are you?  
  
It was because of these questions that he figured out whose voice it was. _If I'm in a bathroom and I'm not in plain view, where do you THINK i am?_  
  
His throat still itched like hell, but there was nothing he could do about it.  
  
The stall door flung open.  
  
Hey, Gordo, man...what are you doin' down there?  
  
Yes, maybe Ethan had changed. Maybe he wasn't the same mean, conceited boy that he was in 9th grade, and sort of was in junior high. But this was Gordo's competition, in the fight for Lizzie's affections. But no one knew. Not Ethan, not Lizzie, not even Miranda. Well, there was one person he told, but that was just an accident...  
  
Gor-do? You aight, man? Gordo shook his head. Here, lemme help you up, Ethan said, putting out his right hand.  
  
Gordo accepted the assistance, but it pained him to be so forgiving to this boy he had never liked. And he doubted he would ever like.  
  
But somehow, walking back to the ER waiting room with Ethan proved to be at least an okay experience for him.   
  
After 3 minutes of absolute silence, Ethan decided something should be said.  
  
Hey, man, I know this is sort of a touchy subject, but I'm guessing you just found out about... he paused, Lizzie and Miranda?  
  
Gordo hated him. He hated him for bringing it up. He tried to keep it in the back of his mind, but he brought it up. And there was no escaping it now.  
  
Yeah, I did, he said, coldly. But Ethan didn't take the hint.  
  
I mean...can you believe it? Lizzie and Miranda. They didn't deserve to..  
  
Can we drop this subject, Ethan? Gordo tried to control his temper, but all the pain showed through.   
  
Yo, I'm sorry, Gordo. I didn't mean to...  
  
Drop it, Ethan, Gordo whispered, tears once again rolling down his cheeks.  
  
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[A/N: I know this is really short. I apologize. I'm trying to create some consistency in the number of words in each chapter. So far, the average for this story is about 700 words, which is kind of pathetic, but I don't care about patheticness, just about consistency.  
  
My oldest cat, Fuzzball (7 years old), is dying. I'm um, trying to incorporate some of what I'm feeling into this story. Plus, one of my dad's friends is dying. I think they pulled the plug today. Yeah, my dad's been really sad lately.  
  
Do you think it's really psychotic of me to be writing this kind of stuff? I'm only 13. Most normal 13 year olds on this site are writing happy L/G stories. I think it sort of shows that I am a mental case. Oh well.  
  
Please let me know if you think this story sucks. I don't think it sucks, but I don't like it much. So yes, please review. Thanks.]


	7. Feel

Gordo sat back down in his chair, away from the mobs of people with their fake words of sympathy about Lizzie and Miranda's death. That's what most of them were there for, anyway. Offer your pity. How could they be so insensitive? He knew that others were sad---their families, especially. But did anyone really feel exactly what he was feeling at that moment? They were all there--- familes, friends of the families, classmates, even ex-friends. But their best friend, the one who had known them for forever, the one who got to know them better and even more in-depth than anyone else on this earth. _Wow... that's weird to think about._ Then again, it wasn't like they were celebrities. But then why did it feel like they had touched so many lives?  
  
He could feel their stares burning into his flesh. And he knew what they were thinking: Why would anyone separate themselves from the group in this so-called time of need? It was just what people thought...  
  
Hey, Gor-don, Ethan said, taking a seat next to him. Gordo felt undeniable indifference towards this kid that sat in the next seat over. Listen, man, I'm really sorry about what I said earlier. Not so much as a glimmer of sorrow hinted in his voice.  
  
Gordo said blankly, I forgive you.  
  
I'm serious, Gordon. I know what you're going through. That last comment set him off.  
  
You know what I'm going through? I'm...I'm sure you do, Ethan. I'm sure you know what it feels like to have your two best friends dead and no one around that gives a damn.  
  
How can you even say that? We're all here, we're all feeling what you're feeling. We all care.  
  
No, you don't, Gordo said, not paying attention to the people watching their fight. You care about the McGuires and the Sanchezs. But no one cares about me, no one understands waht I'm going through, and most importantly, no one is feeling what I'm feeling.  
  
You know, man, you're being really selfish. You weren't the only one who was friends with them.  
  
Gordo swallowed back tears rising to his head. Maybe it was true. Maybe he was being selfish, and he should try to connect with people. After all, they were human beings. And they could offer some words of wisdom.  
  
He looked back over at Ethan. _Then again, Ethan isn't really a words of wisdom kind of guy._  
  
He was trying--and failing-- to be more rational. Everytime Ethan spoke, it was just another thing to set him off. The way he kept talking about Lizzie and Miranda disrespectfully...it hurt Gordo to even hear those names, bringing back painful memories of the night before, and those obituaries, now deeply embedded into his mind.  
  
And then there was Matt. Energetic little Matt, now lying in a hospital. And no one would say how, or why. But if optimistic Matt couldnt' take it anymore, how could Gordo? Matt, who was what now? 14? 15? Barely into high school?  
  
Gordo resorted to trying to rationalize the whole situation. _Was it just a coincidence that it happened so soon after...you know? Or was that just the cherry on top?  
  
God, it's all too complicated. Maybe I should give my mind a rest._  
  
Then, Kate walked over. Kate, who hadn't even been their friend since 6th grade, was there, worrying over all of this. _Why is she even here?  
  
_Ethan wants to know if you want to come and sit with us, she huffed.  
  
  
  
Whatever, Gordo. Your loss, she said, as she flipped around to walk back to the rest of the pack. Spotaneously, Gordo grabbed her wrist.  
  
Wait, Kate. She shook him off of her.  
  
What do you want, Gordon? she sneered.  
  
Why do people think that? He looked up into her eyes. He needed an honest answer, for once. Why he was looking for an honest answer from Kate, no one will ever know.  
  
Think what? she said, her voice softening a little.  
  
That I can't heal by myself? That I need someone to talk to now? Kate sat down next to him and smiled.  
  
How should I know? She laughed. And somehow, so did he.  
  
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[A/N: Don't think it's gonna end there! No way, no how. But I am trying to start a little resolution. But you never know, I might just throw in another conflict and it'll start all over again. You just DON'T know with me.   
  
Anyway, I realize I said Gordo has known Lizzie and Miranda for . And yes, I do realize he hasn't known Miranda all his life, but let's face it, is a very loose term nowadays. I meant more like a long time rather than all my life.   
  
Sorry if you didn't like how this chapter turned out. Blah to you if you didn't.   
  
Speaking of that, how do you people feel about a Kate/Gordo relationship?   
  
Just kiddddding!  
  
Sorry for the really long time without an update, too. It's been 15 days, to be exact. I have an excuse for practically everyday that I missed. Snow days, days without the computer, days off from school, sick day, party, etc. Next to be updated is: The Great Hillridge Junior High Reunion. In fact, I already started writing the next chapter and because I haven't updated in *so* long, I might post it tonight. MIGHT being the keyword.  
  
Let me know what you think of my STORY! Please review, thanks.]


	8. A Love Like That

But it was so true. People always thought that grieving was a group process, and that wasn't entirely true. Sitting and thinking to yourself was just as effective, if not more.  
  
And that's just what Gordo did. Minded his own business, left others alone. Why did he feel like the only one in the room who was taking this seriously? Everyone else was trapped in bubbles of obliviousness. And the worst part was, they did it voluntarily. Facing reality, facing cold, hard facts. That was just another day in the life of David Gordon.  
  
At times, thoughts failed him. He wasn't sure what to think, what to feel. Temporarily, he was just another useless airhead in the crowd. A person who, even if they did have thoughts, had silly, unreasonable thoughts. And that's what most of the people there were. They thought they were grieving, but grieving isn't just about showing up at a funeral, or in this case, a hospital. But grieving was such an unexplainable thing. It just wasn't the sort of thing you had to force yourself to do. It should come naturally. And that's how you knew that you truly loved that person. You don't even have to think about crying. You just do.  
  
Yet Gordo couldn't help but wonder if what he was doing was actually helping. As smart as he'd like to think he was, maybe he was the nutcase, the guy who would eventually crack. It seemed that way, like every time another person would try to help, he'd push them away. Would he be one of those people who end up alone, unmarried, friendless, and be known to the neighborhood kids as Crazy Man Gordon? He had wanted so much in his life, but now, it seemed pointless, worthless. Just another phase that needed to be etched out of his mind.   
  
Then again, maybe this was a sign. A sign that he should go out there and do what he wanted, before it was too late. Because we all assume that we're going to die when we're in our 70s, 80s, maybe even later. That's probably what Lizzie and Miranda thought. But the truth is, you could die next year. next month, next week, even...tomorrow.   
  
Nothing seemed real anymore. Contradictions overpowered his head, nothing seemed to have only one answer anymore. Could he take it anymore? The deep thoughts constantly hovering over him like a dark cloud. He had taken happiness for granted, and now it was gone. Sometimes, he wished it was all a dream.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Gordon, wake up, a voice whispered to him. Gordo made unintelligible noises, attemtping to indicate that he didn't want to wake up. But eventually, his mind did. _Where am I? _he thought, his eyes still not open.   
  
Then an elbow nudged him rather roughly, but he ignored it. _Have I been...dreaming?_   
  
the voice yelled into his ear. You gotta get up! Consciousness kicked in, and he recognized the voice as, of course, Ethan.   
  
He forced his eyelids to part and saw himself in the waiting room of the hospital. Same as before. _It wasn't a dream_, he thought, biting his lower lip to keep from crying.  
  
Dude, what's wrong? Ethan said, worriedly. _It's funny,_ Gordo thought. _He almost sounds convincing._  
  
I, uh... Gordo swallowed. I've got something, um...in my eye. It's been...bothering me for a while now.   
  
But how could you respond to that?   
  
Well, uh, I'll be over there, man, he said, sounding confused, and motioning slowly over to the rest of the group with his thumb. He turned around and walked somberly back there, and flopped down onto the seat next to Kate. Gordo watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Kate snuggled up against Ethan's shoulder, and they sat together, comforting each other without speaking a word.  
  
The summer after they all graduated from junior high, Ethan's stepmom made a decision. She decided to take a vacation to Europe. But even she could've taken Ethan, she wouldn't have. She tried asking so many family friends if they would take him in for the summer, but they all had plans.  
  
Ethan had had his eye on Lizzie McGuire for a while, but never got the chance to make a move, with Kate always latched onto his arm. Kate was a nuisance to him. It was almost like she was in his way. So just like many other girls, Lizzie slipped through his fingers.  
  
But when oppurtunity rang, he answered. He suggested to his mom the McGuires. It took some convincing, considering he himself had only seen them a few times, but Mr. and Mrs. McGuire were so hospitable and considerate that his stepmom couldn't help but gain trust in them so quickly.   
  
So the McGuires' basement became Ethan's temporary residence for those 2 months. The first couples were awkward, but ultimately, he came, he saw, he conquered: by the end of the summer, they were a full-blown couple.  
  
But time took its toll, and by that February, they had broken up. And it was not a pretty break-up. Lizzie crying for days on end, Ethan sitting sadly by himself during lunch. Of course, Lizzie got over it, with the help of Miranda, but Ethan was another story. No one dared to talk to him. They all believed that he didn't want to be bothered.  
  
One pretty spring day, Kate got sick of it. She marched up to Ethan, and yelled, Snap out of it! It's been like, 3 months! And he just looked up at her and held back laughter. Somehow, in the vast shallowness of high school, they had found true love in one other.  
  
It was a sickeningly sweet story, pure sap straight from the oak tree. But practically everyone at school knew it. And Gordo knew it would make a beautiful story to tell their grandchildren one day.  
  
Staring at Kate and Ethan, he wished he had that. It didn't even have to be true love. Even lust, or perhaps just someone to care for. He'd had someone in mind, but he was never sure about it. Never quite positive that there could be something there. Never quite confident to say anything. But now, it was impossible.  
  
He lifted his eyes up towards the ceiling, as though looking towards heaven. And without hesitation, he whispered...  
  
_I love you, Lizzie McGuire._  
  
------------------  
  
[A/N: *Ahem*.   
  
Go read Call me on the line by love-fool. Well, first you have to read A Summer to Remember. Then read that one. It's the best non-L/G story I've ever read, LoL. Not to diss L/G stories or anything (that'd be sort of hypocritical, don't you think?) but it's cool to see something new. And plus, the character Aubrey in both of stories is based around me, and I am really excited about that.  
  
I have a couple of story ideas right now. No, that's not true. I have lots of story ideas right now. But there are two of them that I am definitely going to put into action. One, I've already started writing. It's even more angsty than this story, believe it or not. I was writing it in my head when I was laying in bed last night, and I already love it to pieces. More than this story. I guess I'll let you in on a little secret: all three of them are going to be alive in this new one. I guess that's why I like it more. When I write this story, , I do sort of miss the whole interaction between the three.  
  
And the second story is going to be, probably very type. I haven't physically written anything down yet. but I've written a lot of the 1st chapter mentally, heh. Note to Self: RW-TLS.  
  
Actually, I've been thinking lately about a story. I've watched Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring three times this week (once normally, once with director commentary, and another time with cast commentary). So yeah, I was thinking of making up my own fantasy story. But don't worry, it won't be a LOTR remake. It'll be original.  
  
When will I post this, you ask? Well, I'm actually thinking about writing the whole story, and then posting it. That way, I can just write and not feel like I have to rush or anything. I don't know when, but I'll say probably when I complete The Great Hillridge Junior High Reunion. That won't be for a few months, now, buddy.  
  
I wrote half of this chapter on Monday and the rest just now, FYI. What do you think? Please review, thanks.]


	9. Nobody's Perfect

He's going to be fine, the doctor finally responded to Mrs. McGuire's frantic, persistent pleas for an answer. A sigh of relief washed over all of them. In all of their minds, things were going to be okay.  
  
Except Gordo's. In the back of his mind laid the knowledge that things wouldn't, and couldn't, ever be the same again. He watched on as the people around him hugged and whispered words of encouragement to one another. There he stood, alone in the crowd, feeling ignored and uncared for. As far as he was concerned, nothing was worse than that. He almost had another run away and hide episode, but he fought back against the urge. It had its benefits, but in the long run, did it really help? No. No, it didn't.  
  
Gordo's mom said, approaching, his father not far behind. I'm not sure if we told you yet, but... She paused. The McGuires are moving in with us for a few days, and I think you'll agree that little Matthew is far too old to share a room with his parents--  
  
If he's so old, Gordo mumbled, why did you insist on calling him   
  
Don't you dare mutter under your breath, young man. _Young man. Young man. I'm 18 years old, but I'm still a young man. I wonder if my dad will see me as mature. In any sense of the word._ If you have something to say, you say it oud loud, his father scolded.  
  
At this point, all of the others were dead silent, viewing the scene, taken aback by Dr. Gordon's sudden outburst thrown into the midst of all of their happy words. But nothing could prepare them for what came next.  
  
I hate you all, Gordo finally proclaimed, loud enough so that even Matt, lying in his hospital bed a few doors down, could hear him.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Gordo didn't even get to witness Matt's first trip outside his hospital room since that morning. After his sudden declaration of animosity, he ran out of the building and realized he had no place to go---but home.  
  
So he walked and walked for that mile and a half, just thinking, as the blazing sun beat down on the back of his head. Perfect blue sky, not a cloud in sight. People were rollerblading and riding their scooters past him, wondering what was up with the dude in the khakis in this kind of weather, not smiling in the least. Wondering what could've possibly gone wrong that this guy was unhappy on this beautiful day.  
  
But they could never understand. Most people go through their lives never having friends as understanding as Lizzie and Miranda were to him. Sure, they'd messed up a couple times, but they were only human. He'd made mistakes, too. Nobody's perfect.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
_My world is being destroyed before my eyes. And I'm just lying here, doing nothing about it.  
  
Then again, is there really anything I can do? What's done is done. I can't...change things.  
  
_Gordo ran a hand through his thick curls, worrying. About what? Even he himself wasn't exactly sure.  
  
_Brring, _the phone purred. A pause. _Brrrring.  
  
_Gordo walked somberly to his bare desk, with the telephone he had just set up last night--before he saw the obituaries, before any of this anything.  
  
_Brrrrin--  
  
_ he murmured into the phone.  
  
a prim English accent said, could I speak to Dr. Gordon?  
  
He's not here right now, Gordo responded, sounding sort of annoyed. Can I take a message?  
  
  
  
_Click._  
  
Gordo slammed the phone back down onto the receiver. _Damn prank callers._  
  
He flopped back onto his bed only to hear the sound of crumpling paper. He reached behind his back and pulled out a newspaper. Beneath him was Lizzie and Miranda's obituaries. Rereading them, it didn't make any sense--how you can be so blunt in reporting the death of a person, and so oblivious as to the pain that comes along with all of these deaths.  
  
No one understood.  
  
------------------------  
[A/N: Sorry if it sounded like it was cut short. I really wanted to get this out tonight. I'm sorry if by rushing it, it lacks quality. I try my best.  
  
I was thinking for a couple weeks that this would only be another 4 or 5 chapters. But I thought about it yesterday, and I'm going to make it longer. AKA, I'm not ending it where I initially was going to. Because I realized it's not realistic. Last week, I actually wrote a couple of the last chapters. I'm not sure why. But it was nice. I was feeling quite inspired.  
  
In a related story, Dear Lizzie is officially one of my favorite episodes ever. I. LOVED. IT. I don't want to spoil it for the rest of you. But I had a heart attack at the end of that episode. Oh my gosh, I'm getting all giddy again.  
  
Well, next story to be updated is Trials and Tribulations of David Zephyr Gordon, chapter 9. I'm going to post it right before the premiere of the new Lizzie McGuire episode . Be sure to watch that. Oh, L/G-ness!  
  
Let me know what you think: please review. Thanks!]


	10. The Letter

For the rest of the day, Gordo kept himself busy. He cleaned his room, reorganized his closet, and did just about anything to keep his mind off of the thought of Lizzie and Miranda lying cold and lifeless on a table in a morgue somewhere with some strange guy prodding at their bodies like they were just another dead human being

Gordo squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He had paused for just a minute to think and his thoughts quickly went to Lizzie and Miranda. He wanted to focus his mind on other things, but they overpowered his mind, even as it pained him so. He loved them and wanted nothing more than just to have them there to tell them that just once more before they passed away. He had missed his chance. He left them at 16 years old, angry at them for being unsupportive. 

Gordo still had the last letter they had sent him. He dug through the top drawer until he found it. It was in Lizzie's handwriting, and it read:

__

Dear Gordo,

Hey again! It's us (as usual)! How are things going with you? I hope this Mr. Scott character isn't being too mean to you because if he is, he better realize that when he has a beef with David Gordon, he's got a beef with Lizzie McGuire and Miranda Sanchez, too! Okay, I'm getting kinda scared now because Miranda's reading this letter next to me and now she's making weird, gorilla-like grunting noises. 

Summer break is almost here! Can you believe this? Graduation is in a few days! That's insane! I'm really hoping we don't have a repeat on 8th grade graduation. But knowing my luck, we probably will, except on a much larger scale, since Kate's a lot meaner and the curtain in the high school gym is a LOT bigger. Oh, wait, we never did tell Miranda about that, did we?

Not to get all "Remember Way Back When?"-ish or anything, but hey, remember way back when Kate wasn't popular? And Miranda and I actually wanted to be popular, but you told us otherwise? And when you liked Frank Sinatra? What's that, Gordo? You still do?! Oh. Um. Oops.

You know we're just kidding. We miss you so much and can't wait until you get home! We're having a surprise "Welcome Back!" party! We love you so much! Have a safe trip home!

Love, 

Lizzie + Miranda 

PS- Miranda says, "LYLAB! Make sure you write that that means love you like a brother' for the acronym-impaired. Lizzie, what are you doing? Lizzie, you're not supposed to be writing this! Lizz---"

Gordo swallowed back bittersweet tears that welled up in his eyes. He tried so hard to laugh at Lizzie's jokes in the letter, but just remembering this was the last thing they had ever sent him made him choke up a bit. It was too hard, too painful to even think of it.

He took the letter and shoved it into the back of the drawer, and left it there, as he silently promised himself never to look at it again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

At around 7:30 that night, faint knocking came through Gordo's closed door. 

"Honey, there's someone here who'd like to see you," his mother said daintily.

__

Visitors. Just what I need. Visitors who'd offer me great loads of pity and make me feel like a wimp for even accepting their stupid pity. Well, they can take their pity and go shove it down someone else's throat. I don't need it.

"Yo, Gordon," Ethan said softly as he quietly stepped over towards Gordo's chair. _Just by the way he said those two words, I know he's here to give me pity. Well, like I said before_ "I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry about anything I said in the past two days that might've hurt you. I've realized that some things I said were really insensitive."

"Yeah, they were," he agreed with a sneer on his face.

"And you probably think I'm here to offer you pity." Ethan looked Gordo straight in the eye as he said, "I'm not. I'm here to offer you sympathy. Even though you'll never believe me when I say this, I do know what you're going through." He swallowed a lump in throat and looked down at his hands. "This isn't the first time I've lost a friend, you know." 

Gordo rolled his eyes. _Right. You lost your great-uncle that you'd never met or you lost your pet dog Coco. I'm sure that really cut deep, too._

"You know what," Ethan started up again. "You really are the most selfish jerk I've ever met." He stood up. "Goodbye." And he walked out the door.

But Gordo wasn't even remotely affected by Ethan's words. Because in his mind, Ethan didn't understood. Ethan was only there to offer his pity because that's what everyone thought you were supposed to do. But it was sympathy, not pity, that should be given. This concept must've been far too complicated for everyone. Everyone, that is, except Gordo.

-----------------------

[A/N: Holy frickin' cow, it's an update. I mean, yowzaaa. I don't know what sparked me to write another chapter but something did and I'm so glad. I can't believe chapter 9 was put up right after "Dear Lizzie" premiered. I mean, YOWZA. But here I am, almost 12 days until "The Lizzie McGuire Movie". Probably won't be another update before then.

Sooo, lemme know what you think, as usual: please review. Thanks!]


	11. Imagine

You don't even want to imagine it.  
  
In almost every person's life, there is at leasts one time when they sit back and wonder, What if one of my friends died tomorrow? But you prevent your imagination from wondering too far. It hurts too much. No one wants to imagine what it would be like if your last conversation with someone was a pointless one, or worse yet, an argument.  
  
When Gordo was younger, he had this immortal view of himself and the people he knew. They were invincible. Sure, he'd see people killed on the news everyday, but he never thought twice about that happening to his family or friends. Nothing could touch them, like they were in their own bubble.  
  
Gordo had never had a close friend or relative die before. There was his one grandmother, but she lived in Florida and he had only seen her once or twice, at family reunions. He didn't understand how it could happen to him. At times, he often thought that made God gave him special treatment. Why, he could not figure out. He saw so much suffering around him, yet he felt so blessed. And now, God had killed his two best friends.  
  
_It's not fair._ He wanted to scream at God. He thought he'd believed in fate, but what good could come out of this? Misery until his dying days? No, it just wasn't fair that some people got off scot-free and others lead lives of pain and suffering.  
  
Well, who said life's fair?_ That's what people would say when they had no other excuse for being unfair. Who said life's fair? Supposedly, God is just in everything does. And if He controls our lives, then shouldn't our lives be just, too? _  
  
It just doesn't make any sense. It was too much for his mind to handle. He needed a getaway, even if only temporary, to escape the hassle. Escape reality.  
  
So he lied down in his bed, and fell asleep.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Gordo awoke the next morning to the sounds of a racket downstairs. It sounded like there was a car driving through their living room. When he got up and went to the top of the stairs, that's when he saw a sight so pitiful. It was Mrs. McGuire, pushing Matt along in his wheelchair. Mr. McGuire followed behind them. All three looked ruefully somber. Behind them were Gordo's parents, carrying a couple suitcases.  
  
It had completely slipped his mind that today was the day the McGuires would be coming to live with the Gordons, temporarily. _Then again, lots of things slip your mind when your friends are suddenly killed one day.  
  
_He watched as his parents and the McGuire's debated as to how to get Matt upstairs. Finally, they agreed that Mr. McGuire and Mr. Gordon would carry him up. And from his room, Gordo watched yet another pitiful sight. After all, it wasn't like Matt was still 10 and weighed less over 100 pounds. Matt was 15 now, and at least 140. But Matt just lied there and accepted it, as if he felt no shame.  
  
Gordo didn't understand this nonchalant attitude. Didn't he just feel a tinge of humiliation? He was in high school, and he was being carried up the steps by his father. _It's mortifying_.  
  
Finally, they reached the top and walked towards Gordo's room. Then, he ran back and lied on his bed, pretending not to notice their arrival. They knocked on the door.  
  
Come in, Gordo announced. The door opened, and in walked the three, with Matt still in the men's arms.  
  
Hi, Gordo, Mr. McGuire said, smiling in this fake way that anyone could see through. Mr. McGuire was a naturally cheerful, smily kind of guy, but Gordo knew what he'd been through. Instead of calling his bluff, Gordo smiled back.  
  
Hi, Mr. McGuire. Gordo inhaled. Hi Matt.  
  
  
  
Mr. McGuire and Mr. Gordon moved towards the bed and sat Matt down.  
  
Well, uh, I guess we'll be leaving you two to...be by yourselves for a little, Mr. Gordon said shakily. Breakfast will be in about an hour. And as quietly as they had come in, the two exited the room.  
  
Awkward silence followed. Gordo and Matt hadn't seen each in two years. _Two years never felt so long._ _And the last time Matt and I had an actual conversation, it was talking about the girl he liked, Melina._ _I never thought I'd ever have to talk to him about the death of his sister, and his own attempt at suicide.  
  
_Gordo wanted desperately to ask him: Why? Why did he even consider doing something so stupid as to commit suicide? What could've possibly been so terrible that he felt the need to kill himself for it? He hoped it wasn't about...please, no, not that.  
  
You're wondering why, Matt said, with his head hanging limply from his neck. At that second, he wished Matt didn't know him so well. It's Lizzie.  
  
Gordo said, trying to sound rational, do you really... _How can I phrase this?_ Do you really think it was... He paused. Worth it?  
  
Matt turned to him, and stared at him with a fire in his eye Gordo had never seen before. Burning, passionate hate.  
  
What the hell do you know? Matt spat out. You're the asshole that left her. Figures you don't give a damn about me, since obviously you didn't give a damn about her. Then, Matt got to his feet, and although wobbly at first, he limped out the door, gripping his stomach as he did so.  
  
Gordo had never seen Matt so infuriated about...anything.  
  
_What did I say wrong?_  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
[A/N: I don't know if anyone that reads this lives near Philadelphia, or at the tri-state area, but if you do, you might've heard a news story within the past couple months. A 17 year old boy was shot and killed on Wednesday. That boy was my brother's friend. The feelings my whole family has been feeling were a bit of inspiration for the update of this story. I never even met the boy, but something about it hit hard.  
  
RIP Will Rouse. You will be missed.]


End file.
